


You Can't Stay

by toomuchagain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchagain/pseuds/toomuchagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the sticker says. Right after 9.03. Nothing is happy. Everything hurts. Cas leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Stay

"Cas, uh...can we talk?"

Cas drags his chair closer, brows furrowed earnestly. "Of course. Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together."

Dean watches him, eyes closed off, hostile, maybe a little disgusted.

It is possible that it's the burrito he's currently consuming, and the way he started talking before swallowing. Sam always seems to tell Dean it's disgusting when he talks with his mouth full. Cas swallows quickly.

"Listen, buddy," Dean says, lowering himself to the table's edge. Cas leans forward, eager, hoping to demonstrate that he is ready to hear anything Dean has to say.

"You can't stay."

Dean meets his eyes when he finishes the sentence, but it doesn't parse.

Why--why would Dean--

Why does he want him out?

That can't...it can't be what he really means.

This must be a joke.

It  _has_ to be a joke.

Dean just trekked across half the  _country_ for him. He can't possibly be serious now.

After a long moment Cas huffs something that resembles a laugh.

"Oh, of course. Yes, that's very funny. Ironic in a very classical sense, saving me, bringing me back here for protection--a well-formed joke," he grins up at Dean.

If anything, Dean's expression becomes harder, more clouded.

"It's no joke. You're a liability. Heaven come Earth wants your ass on a platter, Cas. We can't have you hanging around the bunker. It's safe, but it's not  _that_ safe."

Cas's grin falters.

Dean isn't joking. Dean isn't lying.

Dean.

Doesn't want.

Him.

Here.

"Oh," Cas swallows, ducking his head. "I see."

He rises from his chair, dropping his burrito.

"Yes, of course. What was I thinking? I'll just--" he points toward the bathroom, where he left the meager personal hygiene kit he's accumulated. "And my jacket," he says, choked on a swallow.

It's barely ten minutes later and he's gone, striding up the dead-end road that leads to the bunker. It may be Kansas, but it's fall, and the air is chilly and damp and oppressive, and Cas finds himself just wanting to break down and cry.

He stops several times, in fact, lungs and throat too thick with cloying, thick fluid, heart imploding in his chest, and he almost doubles over, leaning against the nearest, sturdy tree each time.

For what seems the first time in his existence, Castiel finds himself wishing he would just die.


End file.
